My interest in archaeologies of the contemporary past was first sparked in 2001 when I read a book with that title, edited by Victor Buchli and Gavin Lucas (Reference Buchli and Lucas2001). One of the first studies of this rapidly developing subdiscipline, it offered a broad overview of issues that had often previously been considered unsuitable for archaeological research. Even then, Archaeologies of the Contemporary Past helped me understand how this approach differed from more traditional archaeological perspectives and practices, while also prompting me to reflect on its scope and cognitive potential.

In Reference González- Ruibal2019, Spanish archaeologist Alfredo González-Ruibal, from the Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, published An Archaeology of the Contemporary Era. I was already familiar with his earlier articles on this subject (e.g., González-Ruibal Reference González- Ruibal2018). This book made a significant impact on me due to its extensive thematic scope, depth, and insightful analysis, as well as the author’s evident erudition throughout his arguments and his comprehensive overview of the discussed issues.

González-Ruibal’s book offers an innovative view of archaeology, presenting it not primarily as a science of the past, but as a means of critical reflection on the present and its material manifestations. The Spanish author’s approach is similar to Archaeology and Modernity by Julian Thomas (Reference Thomas2004), which focuses on the relationship between archaeology and modernity and reflects on the epistemological and philosophical foundations of archaeology. While Thomas analyzes the origins of modern thought (seventeenth–nineteenth centuries) and its influence on archaeology as a science, González-Ruibal takes it a step further by treating the contemporary era (nineteenth–twenty-first centuries) as a subject of archaeological research in its own right. In doing so, he proposes a new way of practising archaeology, redefining its scope and research objectives, and changing how we think of the discipline as deeply rooted in the contemporary world. Both books present archaeology as a discipline firmly situated within the eras of modernity and supermodernity, yet capable of analyzing and transcending them. This is achieved by deliberating on the materiality, epistemology, and ethical and political implications of researching both the past and the present.

The first edition of An Archaeology of the Contemporary Era was very well received in academic circles, as reflected in Lori Khatchadourian’s assessment (Reference Khatchadourian2021, 109): ‘This book is the most formidable, encompassing, agenda-setting instalment in the growing archaeology of the contemporary era. It will shape and sharpen the conversation for years to come’.

When I received the second, revised edition of González-Ruibal’s book for review—published less than six years after the first edition—a fundamental question came to mind: What prompted a new edition in such a short period of time, and how do the two editions differ? González-Ruibal explains that the second edition was prepared primarily due to the dynamic development of contemporary archaeology and the proliferation of new research and publications in the field, approximately 250 of which appeared between 2018 and 2024 (p. xii). These publications have been incorporated into the new edition. He has also updated and expanded key theoretical threads, taking into account issues and problems that have become central to contemporary archaeology in recent years, including the Anthropocene, displacement, subaltern assemblages, pandemics, the ecological crisis, climate change, reactionary populism, and the infraordinary. The second edition is more expansive in both structure and content, with new thematic sections, more case studies, and a broader analytic scope encompassing research outputs in languages other than English, such as eastern Europe and Italy. González-Ruibal also expanded the introduction to emphasize the discipline’s pluralistic and interdisciplinary nature and included a broader discussion of conflict archaeology. He has also addressed criticism of the first edition, clarifying and expanding upon his earlier theses in many places. Personal factors played a role too. The book is the result of over two decades of fieldwork and collaboration, as well as Alfredo González-Ruibal’s consistent development of his unconventional and highly inspiring reflections on contemporary archaeology. This unconventionality stems from his rejection of traditional boundaries between archaeology and other disciplines, as well as from his understanding of contemporary archaeology as a critical practice concerned not only with recent material remains but also with memory, violence, politics, and social inequalities. González-Ruibal’s approach challenges the view of archaeology as merely a method for studying the past, instead presenting it as a way of engaging with the present and addressing the material dimensions of contemporary human experiences. In this sense, the second edition can be viewed as both an update and a synthesis of the author’s research thus far, as well as his mature theoretical proposal for the archaeology of the contemporary era.

The book’s structure and main premise remain essentially unchanged from the first edition: it is an attempt at an archaeological analysis of the contemporary era and an ambitious endeavour to describe the era in which we live through archaeology. The author defines the contemporary era, spanning from the late nineteenth to the twenty-first century, as a period characterized by excess, the logic of supermodernity, and an unprecedented scale of global transformations. The central proposition is that this era is the Age of Destruction, as revealed by the archaeological record of ruins, waste, degraded landscapes, mass graves, remnants of concentration and death camps, and abandoned industrial sites—together forming ‘a particular archaeological assemblage’ (p. 1).

The clear structure helps readers navigate the breadth of material presented in the seven thematic chapters, titled ‘Ruins’, ‘Politics’, ‘Ethics’, ‘Aesthetics’, ‘Time’, ‘Space’, and ‘Materiality’. The author divides the chapters into two parts: the first is theoretical and methodological, and the second outlines the archaeology of the contemporary era from the perspectives of time, space, and materiality. There is no room here for a detailed analysis of individual chapters, nor is that the purpose of this review. Instead, I will focus on aspects that demonstrate the book’s value, explain why it is worth reading, and confirm its significance for contemporary archaeology.

Broadly speaking, González-Ruibal’s key contribution is a coherent yet critical approach to contemporary archaeology that moves beyond dominant interpretive frameworks such as the Anthropocene. The book combines theoretical reflection with a clearly articulated methodological and ethical program centered on politics, affect, materiality, and excessive time and space—categories fundamental to archaeology, regardless of the period under study. This approach significantly challenges the discipline’s current assumptions by shifting the focus from reconstructing the past to critically engaging with the present and embedding archaeology into ongoing social and political processes. In this sense, it diagnoses the condition of the contemporary world and redefines archaeology as an engaged discipline capable of interpreting and problematizing current cultural, social, and material phenomena.

One of the book’s strongest points is its radical redefinition of the discipline. González-Ruibal argues that archaeology is not just a science of the past or of objects, but rather a field that studies archaeological phenomena, such as processes of abandonment, destruction, ruin, and material durability. This approach aligns with Laurent Olivier’s (Reference Olivier2011) idea that the past is not a closed temporal order, but rather a continuous process. According to Olivier, the past does not simply pass away; it persists in the present through material traces. Archaeology analyzes these traces, their transformations, and interactions, focusing on material memory and overlapping temporalities rather than reconstructing a homogeneous, chronologically ordered history.

González-Ruibal’s proposal builds on this perspective by placing greater emphasis on analyzing the dynamic material processes that shape the contemporary world. This transforms archaeology into a discipline capable of critically describing the present rather than merely documenting its historical context. The author emphasizes that ‘archaeology works best when it works with ruination, interruptions, and collapse’ (p. 1), allowing us to view the present, with its rapid pace and excessive waste and ruins, as the ‘most archaeological’ of periods. In this sense, González-Ruibal undertakes the subversive task of ‘de-modernizing modernity’ (p. 158), revealing that beneath the shiny surface of global capitalism lies a deep stratigraphy of violence, destruction, and neglect.

His book is also notable for its broad geographical scope. The author moves away from the dominant Anglo-American perspective by incorporating case studies from various continents into the discourse with a focus on peripheral contexts. As an archaeologist conducting research in the Global South, he does not treat it as a separate field of study but rather as a starting point for broader theoretical reflection on marginalized areas—spatially, materially, and politically. In this sense, he ‘provincializes’ supermodernity, showing that the experience of modernity in Brazil, Ethiopia, or Somalia is just as significant—and archaeologically tangible—as in London or Detroit. The ephemeral forms of settlement in sub-Saharan Africa and the monumental architecture of North America both function within the same order of supermodernity. Thus, the author emphasizes that archaeology is particularly well-suited to articulating the experiences of marginalized groups and areas and giving voice to the subaltern.

In his book, González-Ruibal examines the central categories of archaeology—time, space, and materiality—from a critical perspective rooted in the present experience. He analyzes these dimensions with exceptional erudition and from multiple facets, demonstrating how contemporary reality is transforming the discipline’s fundamental cognitive frameworks. Regarding time, for instance, he discusses presentism—the dominance of the present that undermines thinking in terms of long durations—and contrasts it with heterochrony (p. 149–54), or the coexistence of multiple, heterogeneous temporalities within a single object or phenomenon. Regarding space, he describes a world standardized by transport infrastructure and non-places as well as fragmented by borders, walls, and systems of control. Materiality, on the other hand, is examined through the lens of ‘monsters’, such as nuclear waste and large dams, which surpass the scope of human action and control (p. 200–09), as well as through an analysis of ‘subaltern assemblages’—the material culture of poverty that serves as a testament to structural exclusion, as well as a display of ingenuity and solidarity (p. 213–17).

The concept of the ‘poetics of things’, developed in relation to marginalized groups, is also inspiring. Parataxis, understood as the juxtaposition of fragments without subordinating them to a single, dominant narrative, plays a key role here (pp. 111–17). Rather than traditional storytelling, the author proposes the ‘poetics of things’ approach, which enables us to ‘make the mud and crops speak’ (p. 126). This approach refers to the idea that material remains should not merely serve to illustrate human narratives but should be allowed to reveal their own meanings and historical entanglements. By giving analytical priority to objects, landscapes, and material traces as witnesses to silenced experiences, it makes visible the lives and perspectives of marginalized groups that are often absent from conventional historical accounts. At the same time, González-Ruibal highlights the ethical problem of representing subalterns, noting that ‘attempts to make subalterns speak, especially through fictionalized accounts, have often ended in ventriloquism’ (p. 124). Consequently, the archaeologist’s goal is not to speak on behalf of the excluded but to adopt an approach to materiality that allows objects to reveal the experiences of the people associated with them. Ultimately, it is through the agency of objects that the living conditions of the people who produced, used, and continue to coexist with them can be revealed.

Equally significant and compelling is the concept of the ‘ethics of witnessing’ (pp. 91–95). Here, archaeology is understood not only as a cognitive practice, but also as an activity burdened with moral responsibility toward the people whose material remains are the subject of research. The archaeologist assumes the role of a witness by confronting the ‘body’ of the past directly (e.g., remnants of daily life, traces of catastrophes, or human remains), which undermines the possibility of full epistemic neutrality. The significance of this stance lies in recognizing that the act of ‘seeing’ entails an ethical obligation. Documenting and interpreting material remains becomes a form of responsible care for those whose experiences have been repressed, distorted, or forgotten. In this sense, archaeology functions as a post-witnessing practice capable of revealing silenced histories and restoring them to the realm of collective memory and visibility.

González-Ruibal does not hide his political commitment. Even at the theoretical level, he clearly distances himself from the ideal of neutral archaeological research. He points out that, in practice, archaeology always operates at the intersection of social tensions and power relations. In this context, he criticizes the overly ‘soft politics’ of liberal archaeology, particularly multiculturalism. In his view, multiculturalism often fails to open space for genuine multivocality; rather, it organizes and smooths over conflicts, reducing them to safe divergences of discourse. Consequently, in conditions of extreme power asymmetry, such as actual armed conflicts, this model of dialogue becomes an empty form that may legitimize existing inequalities rather than challenging them.

In contrast, González-Ruibal proposes a project of radical archaeology whose guiding principle is the active exposure and destabilization of dominant narratives. In this framework, dissensus is of key importance. It is understood as the deliberate introduction of a rupture into seemingly coherent interpretations of the past. Other important aspects include disclosure, or bringing material traces of violence and exclusion to the surface, and defamiliarization, which strips familiar images of their obviousness and renders them disturbingly alien. Finally, power structures are demystified by revealing their ‘banal or abject nature’ (p. 75). These concepts are complemented by a genealogical perspective that traces the material connections between global systems of production and consumption and local forms of social and environmental destruction. The author’s profound humanism is clearly revealed in this project. It takes the form not of abstract empathy but of an ethical imperative to expose the violence embedded in the world’s social and material structures. Such humanism takes the form of a humanism of dissent, based on the conviction that scholarly responsibility encompasses not only describing reality but also critically deconstructing it when it naturalizes inequality, exclusion, and historical erasure.

González-Ruibal’s book is written with passion, combining scholarly rigour with empathy and sensitivity, yet it is not an easy read. This difficulty stems from its dual nature: it is deeply rooted in archaeology while also addressing fundamental questions of humanity, ethics, and politics. It is a demanding experience, intended for readers capable of sustained interpretive and analytical effort, necessitated by the linguistic complexity and structure of the argument. His style is dense and heavily laden with theoretical references while simultaneously exhibiting surprising distinct diversity. Alongside the dominant analytical and critical tone are narrative and poetic passages, which use description and metaphor to convey dense meaning. Particularly moving are the passages on annihilation, where the author describes archaeology as the ‘science of disappearance’ (p. 52) and argues that it can reconstruct an ‘essence of truth’ from material remains that constitute the only evidence of genocide victims’ existence, even when such traces were being systematically erased. He freely yet precisely combines archaeological concepts with anthropological, historical, and geographical terminology, broadening the interpretive framework (including chapters titled ‘Autophagy’, ‘Heterochrony’, and ‘Ephemerality’). Numerous philosophical and sociological references embedded in reflections on the present add an extra layer of complexity. This is not an erudite display, but rather an attempt to strengthen the theoretical foundations of the proposed archaeology of the contemporary era and clarify its epistemological status. While this approach is justified, reading the text requires constant attention and a readiness to draw on external contexts.

In her review of the first edition of An Archaeology of the Contemporary Era, Khatchadourian (Reference Khatchadourian2021: 109) noted that ‘The book is a provocation, a lament, and a call to rethink archaeology. Unabashedly partisan, González-Ruibal’s intellectual insurgency aims to revolutionize the discipline as a handmaiden to justice’. This remains fully relevant for the second edition of González-Ruibal’s work, published in 2025 and reviewed here, a position with which I fully agree. At the same time, I perceive a clear deepening of González-Ruibal’s intellectual project, which is not merely a critical manifesto but a more mature and consistently developed theoretical proposal. This proposal more clearly states the potential of archaeology as a tool for diagnosing and intervening in our contemporary world.

An Archaeology of the Contemporary Era—most importantly—is not merely a book about archaeology or for archaeologists. I interpret this book as a loud call for justice, whose relevance becomes particularly evident in the context of contemporary crises and armed conflicts, including the ongoing war in Ukraine, conflicts and humanitarian crises in the Middle East, and the genocide in Gaza, unfolding before our very eyes. In this sense, it contributes to ongoing reflections on the responsibility of the humanities in the face of violence, destruction, and inequality.

I am deeply convinced that Alfredo González-Ruibal would likely prefer to analyze the contemporary era in a more affirmative manner. However, global realities compel him to adopt a critical and interventionist approach. Against this backdrop, archaeology emerges as a discipline capable of articulating a meaningful, audible voice—documenting and interpreting the material traces of violence, war, and collapse within a broader social, political, and ethical context. Therefore, it is essential reading for anyone who seeks to understand the material evidence that reveals the darker side of our times, while also discerning the glimmer of ‘messianic hope’ hidden within the world’s ruins and fragments.